


Crazy Like a Fox

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel visits the abandoned Night Island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Like a Fox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fivehundredyearsyoung](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fivehundredyearsyoung).



> Written for fivehundredyearsyoung on the Valentine's Day VC Secret Gift Exchange (Tumblr).
> 
> The 'Tiny Satan' reference was shamelessly borrowed from a most amusing Tumblr post from eroicawithlove.

**"Then the realization had come to Daniel as they stood together in the ruined dining room with its famous murals of ritual flagellation barely visible in the dark; He isn’t going to kill me after all. He isn’t going to do it. Of course he won’t make me what he is, but he isn’t going to kill me. The dance will not end like that. “But how could you not know such a thing,” Armand had said, reading his thoughts. “I love you. If I had not grown to love you I would have killed you before now, of course."  
_Queen of the Damned_ by Anne Rice - p. 84**

**~~~~~**

“Of course.” Daniel muttered to himself. “I was halfway there already.” Fragments of that book flitted through his fractured mind quite often. Sometimes the fragments were unrecognizable to him, a puzzle with missing pieces. He laughed, brittle but genuine.

He’d gained access to the villa quite easily: no one was here. The frenetic energy that this place had once held was gone. No, not gone, not entirely. He thought could hear the muted sounds of revelry, the thump of a bass guitar, the heady scent of living blood, rivers of it, pumping through the fragile vessels that branched through the mortals that flowed like yet another river through the gilded labyrinth of Night Island.

Not here, he realized, those humans were not here anymore though perhaps some of the tumult his ears insisted they were hearing were echoes from those times. Resonances that repeated in this magical place. He had wondered how they controlled it, the other ones. Louis and Lestat and Armand, how did they fight it, the constant, dangerous yearning for that living blood? Oh, the humans in their delicate case of hot skin cunningly robing their fragile bones as they passed outside the doors that lead to the sacrosanct villa, every night passing within feet of inhuman monsters.

“Still mad, then,” he said aloud. His voice was flat and inhuman and overly loud in this empty place. “This is getting old, Armand, my Tiny Satan. Your prophecy was self-fulfilling, don’t you see? You loved me then. How can you hate me now? Or is it me that no longer loves?”  
Thinking hard was destructive; it made the thoughts shatter silently in his mind, spinning, reflective shards that showed him more confusing fragments from the past. He was tired of not being able to pull the threads together.

He barely glanced at the room he once shared with Armand, instead he let himself out into what had been the public area and looked up at the glass ceiling. Nothing to be seen, not with pools of water gone green with algae, dirt, palm fronds. The once-pristine, clear glass was filthy. Inside, however, the deterioration was minimal. The power remained on and the temperature was still steady. Armand, paying the bills with his fabulous wealth so he could revamp the place? Daniel didn’t know. It would need updating. The artwork was pure 80’s graphics, black and white beauties with lurid pink sunsets behind them, glaring yellow Ray Bans on their faces. Neon palm trees silhouetted against barred suns. This was one of the clubs, then. There was the bar, not a bottle in sight, though that was his old addiction, wasn’t it? He still liked the smell of liquor, rum and gin and whiskey. The carpet was bright green and behind the bar was a jungle scene, giraffes peering above the crowded foliage. Didn’t Armand know giraffes lived in the grasslands?

“Immortal idiot.” he whispered. “Can you use a goddamn phone yet, I wonder?”

“He can.”

Daniel whirled, chagrined that the madness got in the way of survival. 

“Nothing to fear from me. I thought you might want some company.” The voice was reasonable and very British. 

Daniel relaxed somewhat.“No offense, David, but I didn’t come here because I was looking for company.”

“I daresay,” David said, looking bemusedly at the neon palm trees. “I saw you last night in Collins Avenue, cruising the bars.”

“Old habits.” Daniel said with a shrug. “We say ‘on Collins Avenue’ here, Dave.”

“I’d heard you were mad,” David said, his voice somehow apologetic and straightforward at the same time. It made Daniel feel better.

“I heard that too. It’s sort of true, I guess. Though It’s more apparent sometimes than others.” He stepped close to David, sniffing delicately. “I do spend a lot of time talking to myself.” He said, his body moving sinuously, making elegant serpentine passes as he moved infinitesimally closer. David’s expression remained bemused though his pulse picked up. Daniel smiled and collected himself somewhat."Have you hunted?” There are people on the beach here. Trespassers, I guess.”

“I have no need of sustenance, but if you are hungry, by all means." David said with a slight bow. “I will accompany you if you like.”

“I’m not dictating a book.” Daniel stated suddenly.

“Of course not. Come. You can feed and then we can take the boat back to South Beach. Be two of the beautiful people. Dance the night away.” 

“Did Armand send you?” I asked, ashamed of the hope that burned like an infection around my heart.

“Not exactly. I was with him not a fortnight ago. He didn’t send me, but I think it was because he didn’t think I would go. Probably I would not have if he had come out and asked, but he didn’t. What he did do was talk about you. I can recognize longing when I hear it, Daniel. I’m hearing it again tonight.”

“Wherever you saw him? He won’t be there if I go to find him. It’s another game.”

They were on the beach and toward the far end of the island they saw the glow of a fire, heard the sounds of revelry. Music and drunken laughter. Daniel turned away from mortals. “Let’s go to the mainland. Let them have some fun, right? I’m glad you’re here, David, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Have you a place to stay?” David asked as the boarded the boat he had rented. It was a sleek little thing, gleaming in the dark water.

“I have rooms in the Cardozo. Plenty of space and all the privacy money can buy. I’m what they call crazy like a fox,”

South Beach glowed on their approach, gleaming neon, trees limned in light, twined about with tiny rice lights. Daniel watched, his eyes wide. “I see them, the pretty people. Can you see them? You must. Sometimes I forget, David, how miserable I am because the night is so beautiful. It’s filled with movement, so much movement. I see the cells of their bodies growing and dying. Sometimes I can’t bear to look away.” He laughed glassily. “It scares them.”

“It will be fine, Daniel. We’ll dance. And for you, a drink. Set you right up. We’ll stay a few nights and then you can come with me.”

“Where?” Daniel’s eyes reflected the lights and were not focused on any one thing.

“I’ve been staying in Wales with Marius.”

“Marius.” Daniel said.

“In a few nights” David said agreeably. Daniel could not think of a reason to demure.

“Why not?” he said.

**FIN**


End file.
